


The Promise of Things to Comes

by clgfanfic



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 19:11:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben and Ray have a rather complicated courtship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Promise of Things to Comes

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Dog Tales at High Moon under the pen name Zane.

          The older man shifted anxiously under the single wool blanket, his legs kicking slightly as his skin slowly turned icy.  He groaned as the images possessed him and he fought weakly, sleep keeping him from dodging the barrage of impressions and fragmented visions that overwhelmed his consciousness.

Arms and legs, entwined…  Two men, kissing…  Bright flash, light glancing off polished buttons…  A door, shattered…  The twin barrels of a shotgun…  Flash and deafening blast…  The lovers, bloody…

Garrett sat up, his eyes wide.  Several others sleeping on nearby shelter cots grumbled and rolled over, used to the nightmares that plagued the homeless who called the old church basement home.  With a trembling hand the man wiped the sweat off his forehead, then dragged his fingers through his beard to ease the itch the sweat created among the mostly gray hairs.

"Damn, damn, damn," he chanted softly.  He'd been doing so well.  For nearly six months he'd been free of the images that usually plagued him – ever since he'd helped the Mountie find that kidnapped girl…

The Mountie.

Garrett's eyes narrowed as the same images flashed through his mind.  _Arms and legs, entwined…  Two men, kissing…_

Two men.

The Mountie and the cop.

Garrett shook his head.  It wasn't possible.  The Mountie wasn't gay.  Was he?

With a grunt he lay back down and drew the blanket up around his chin, a faint chill, a portend of a continuing restless night.

After he had suffered through the same nightmare seven more nights running, Garrett packed his worn backpack and left the shelter.  He had to find the Mountie.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Fraser stood, ramrod straight, in front of the Canadian consulate, his gaze steadfastly fixed on the third window from the left on the second floor of the bank building across the street.  He felt the young woman press herself against him, giggling as her companion snapped a photo.

"Thanks," the overly-familiar woman said, then kissed his cheek before she and her accomplice escaped, their high-pitched giggles drifting back to him.

The slightest sigh escaped Fraser's lips and he made a mental note to put himself on report for the indiscretion.

Lying nearby, Diefenbaker woofed softly, commenting on the women.

The Mountie would have agreed with the wolf's assessment if he'd been able to.

"Fraser?"

The Mountie continued to stare straight ahead, but he recognized the voice.  Garrett, the psychic who had helped him and Ray find the missing girl.

"C-Can you talk?"

Fraser blinked once.

"I'll take that as a no," Garrett said.  "If I'm right, blink twice."

Fraser did so.

"Good, good…" Garrett commented, nervously wringing his hands as he glanced down at the wolf.  "That's okay, you don't have to talk, just listen."  He paced off several steps, then swung back and closed the distance until he was almost whispering into Fraser's ear.  "I've been having them again – the visions.  It's you – you and that cop."

The muscles around the corners of Fraser's lips tightened and he blinked twice, urging Garrett to continue.

"Someone's going to shoot you two."

Fraser's eyes widened slightly and he noted a second demerit to be added to his report.

"But it's— It's more complicated than that."

Garrett paced off again, rubbing his hands roughly over each other.  After several minutes he moved closer to Fraser again and whispered the more erotic aspects of his visions.

Fraser's head jerked and he looked down at Garrett, then immediately back to the window across the street.  He'd simply have to place himself on official report for that one.

"I don't know what that means," Garrett said.  "Maybe it's just a— What do you call it?  A metaphor?  I don't know what any of it means, but I had to come tell you.  Maybe I can sleep now," the man muttered as he turned and headed down the sidewalk, leaving Fraser to mull over the possible interpretations of the images until the end of his shift.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Three hours later, the clock chimed and Fraser immediately sat heavily on the consulate steps.  Dief pushed himself up, cocking his head to one side and whining in sympathy.

"Perhaps Garrett is correct, and the images are metaphorical," Fraser reasoned.

Dief woofed.

"Well, it _can't_ be true," Fraser argued.  "Ray's never made any moves in that direction."

Dief whined.

"So _you_ say, but I have yet to see any evidence that Raymond Vecchio is homosexual, or even bisexual."

Another whine as the wolf sat down.

"I wouldn't call myself gay either," Fraser countered.  "It's true that I feel I am well acquainted with my feminine side… and it's also true that I've been attracted to a few men over the years…"

Dief grumbled and cocked his head to the side.

Fraser shot the wolf a frustrated glance.  "Granted, I've only been attracted to a few women over the years as well, but—"  He stopped and stood.  "I'll simply have to examine my feelings for Ray more closely."

Dief grumbled, stood again and shook himself.

"You're always hungry," Fraser replied.  "We'll go eat as soon as I write up my report."

The wolf gave a half-yip, his ears pricking forward.

"Be that as it may, I broke my concentration.  I am _required_ to report myself; it'll only take a minute."

Fraser stood and headed into the consulate, Dief following on his heels, grumbling the entire way.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Exactly twenty-two minutes later Fraser again stood on the sidewalk in front of the Consulate, but dressed in dark jeans and a plaid flannel shirt.

Dief sat down next to him and stared up the street.  He whined softly under his breath.

"Ray's always late," Fraser replied.

Diefenbaker snuffled.

"That wasn't kind," the Mountie replied sternly.  "I'll just pretend I didn't hear it."

The wolf sighed heavily, but refrained from further comment.

Several seconds passed, Fraser shifting from one foot to the other.  "What do you mean, 'I'm always early'?" he finally asked his lupine companion.

Dief looked up at the Mountie, his ears folded half-way back, his mouth open, grinning at the man.

"I'm not _always_ early."

"Yes, Benny, you are," Ray interrupted as he walked up to join the pair.

Fraser turned.  "I am?"

"You are."

Dief woofled his agreement with the Chicago detective.

"Come on, I'm double-parked," Ray instructed, already heading back down the street.

"That's illegal," Fraser stated, following the man.

"No, it's not."

"Yes, Ray, I believe it is."

"It's not, Fraser."

"I beg to disagree, Ray."

"You don't have to beg," Ray said, giving his companion a lewd side-long glance.  "You'll just do it anyway."

Fraser, who'd started to say something, forced his mouth closed.

Ray suppressed a smile.

The Mountie studied his friend from the corner of his eye as they walked towards the car.  Could Ray have _those_ kinds of feelings?  For him?  It was true they were friends, close friends.  And Ray had changed a great deal since the Mountie had first met him, but did he harbor secret thoughts about sleeping with Fraser?

They reached the Rivera and climbed in, Ray immediately pulling back into traffic, cutting off a motorist and getting a loud horn blast for his efforts.  "So, where to?" he asked the Canadian.

"Pardon?" Fraser asked, his thoughts still occupied.

Ray frowned at Fraser.  "Benny?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"What's up?"

"Up, Ray?" the Mountie asked, his gaze dropping quickly to his lap.

"What's wrong?" Vecchio clarified.

"Oh.  Wrong."  Fraser echoed.  "What's wrong?"

"That's what I asked, what's wrong?"

"Why, nothing's wrong, Ray."

"Right," Ray said, shaking his head.  "Look, how about D'Vinci's?"

Fraser nodded, knowing how much Ray enjoyed the small Italian restaurant not far from his home.

"Oh, listen, Delbert Rankin made bail," Vecchio said.  "And you remember what he said he was going to do, right?"

"I believe his exact quote was:  'I'll see the two of you—'"

"Dead," Ray interrupted, accelerating through a yellow light that turned red before he made it across the intersection.  "He said he'd kill us, Fraser."

"Ray, you just ran that red light."

"Red light, smed light, who cares when there's a killer out there who wants to serve us up on a platter!  You'd better check your priorities, Benny."

"I'm sure that Mr. Rankin's had time to calm down and reconsider—"

"Look, I'm tellin' you, that man's gonna come looking for us.  I'm just saying that you have to watch your back."

"I will endeavor to do that, Ray."

"Good.  I wouldn't want to see anything happen to you…"

"Thank you, Ray," Fraser said, the possibilities washing over him again.  "I wouldn't want to see anything happen to you, either."

They rode the rest of the way to the small family-run restaurant in silence.  Fraser's conflicted thoughts warred with each other as he contemplated the possibilities in Ray's comments.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Their dinner eaten, Ray drove Fraser and Diefenbaker back to the Mountie's apartment building.  "So, I'll pick you up in the morning?" he asked.

Fraser nodded.  "Thank you kindly.  Would you like to come up?"

Vecchio thought a moment, then shook his head.  "Naw, I'd better not."  Ray gave the Mountie a long, perusing glance, then shook his head and smiled ruefully.  "Okay, so, I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Ray."

"Goodnight, Benny."

Vecchio pulled away from the curb, and Fraser watched the Buick disappear around the corner before he turned and headed inside, Dief at his heels.

Inside his apartment, Fraser lit his lamp and walked to his small closet.  He pulled off his boots, then carefully removed his jeans and shirt, hanging up both.  Standing in his red long johns, he surveyed his apartment.

Had Garrett's vision been set in this apartment, or was it in Ray's home?  _Surely it must be here_ , he decided.  It was impossible to imagine trying to engage  in a romantic tryst in the Vecchio home…  Theresa Vecchio trying to feed them, Francesca trying to grope him, and Ray making love to him?  Fraser shook his head. The image was almost panic-inducing.

He walked over to the narrow bed and bent down, pulling his bedroll out from under it.  He unrolled the bedding on the floor beside the bed while Dief jumped up on the carefully tucked blanket and stretched out.

Fraser settled himself on the floor and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, then reached over and turned off the lamp, casting the room into semi-darkness.

Dief sighed heavily and shifted on the bed to make himself more comfortable, the fabric making a popping sound as the wolf's claws caught in the fabric.

"Did you have the feeling that Ray was—"  Fraser paused, searching for the right word.  "Was, well, making a pass, shall we say?"

The wolf groaned.

"My imagination?" Fraser repeated.  "Well, I suppose that is a possibility.  Yes, you're probably right.  Garrett put the idea in my mind, and now I'm seeing perfectly normal behavior through… lavender-colored glasses, I suppose."

Another groan.

"Perhaps you're right," Fraser admitted.  "Perhaps I should just ask Ray.  Yes, I think I'll just tell Ray what Garrett said and see what he says."

Diefenbaker rolled onto his back, his back legs falling open as he found a comfortable position.

"Yes, I think I'll do that," Fraser stated.  "Tomorrow."

A low growl told the Mountie it was time to shut up.  After all, even wolves need their beauty sleep.

"Good night, Diefenbaker."

A soft growl was Dief's reply.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Fraser blinked, his eyes adjusting quickly to the oddly bright, but still dull light that filled his low-rent apartment.  He turned, looking around the room, trying to understand what was happening.

His mouth dropped open and he took a step toward the bed where he was lying, his arms and legs entwined with Ray's… and Ray was kissing him, brushing his lips softly across his chest, collar-bones, neck…

Fraser swallowed hard as he watched his hands moving over the detective's bare back, his fingertips digging into the shining skin.  Ray responded, his hips pressing forward, his thigh frictioning over Fraser's.

The door burst open.

Fraser, his double lying on the bed, and Ray, all looked, their gazes locked on the double-barrel of the shotgun aimed at them.

Fraser glanced up, his eyebrows vaulting for his hairline when he found his superior holding the weapon.

"Sir?" his double asked from the tangled love nest.

"Fraser," Thatcher hissed.  "You— You—"  She lifted the gun slightly higher.  "I thought that kiss _meant_ something.  I opened my heart to you, Benton Fraser, and _this_ is how you respond?"

"But, sir," the Fraser on the bed stated, "if I could just explain—"

"Tell it to the big Prime Minister in the sky, Fraser," she said, then pulled the trigger.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Fraser sat up, sweat leaving his skin damp and chilled.  He glanced over at Dief, who stared back at him from the bed.

The wolf growled.

"A _very_ bad nightmare," he admitted.

Diefenbaker groaned and rolled over.

Fraser considered telling the wolf about the dream, but decided against it.  Interrupting Diefenbaker's sleep meant that the wolf would be cranky the next day, and a cranky wolf was a— Well, it didn't bear thinking about.

The Mountie lay back down and closed his eyes.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Fraser blinked, his eyes adjusting quickly to the oddly bright, but still dull light that filled his low-rent apartment.  He turned, looking around the room.  He was lying in bed again, his arms and legs entwined with Ray's… only this time he and Ray lay on their sides, their groins pressed tightly again each other.

Fraser took a step closer, curious about what he and Ray were doing.

"Oh my."

They were kissing.

No, not just kissing it was deep, back of the throat tongue spelunking, he realized, feeling a blush creep up his neck to take root in his cheeks.

Ray groaned, his hand moving down over Fraser's ribs to his hip, and then reaching in between them.

The door burst open.

It took a moment for the two men on the bed to realize that they had been interrupted, but Fraser was already staring at the angry figure in the doorway who held a shotgun on the two men.

"Raymundo!" Theresa Vecchio cried.  "Is this the way I raised you?  A good Catholic boy, sleeping with a— a— Canadian?  This is the thanks I get?"

She lifted the gun, snugging the butt of the stock into her shoulder.

"Ma, wait!" Ray cried.  "I can explain!"

"Tell it to the man upstairs," she cried, pulling the trigger.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Fraser's eyes flew open and he stared at the ceiling, his breath coming in rapid, panicked pants.

"Mrs. Vecchio," he said softly.  "That makes more sense than—"

Diefenbaker's nose slipped over the edge of the bed, the wolf giving Fraser a soft whine.

"Really?" the Mountie replied.  "You think Thatcher—?"

A lupine grumble.

"I see," he said, contemplating.  "Perhaps you're right.  She can be a bit obsessive on certain topics, but Mrs. Vecchio can be very emotional."

A low growl filled the night.

"Understood," Fraser replied, rolling over in his bedroll and pulling the single wool blanket up around his chin.  Two o'clock in the morning and they should be sleeping.  After all, this wasn't a slumber party.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Fraser blinked, his eyes adjusting quickly to the oddly bright, but still dull light that filled his low-rent apartment.  He turned, ignoring the room and looking to see what he and Ray were doing this time.

His mouth snapped closed and he took a step toward the bed where he was straddling Ray's groin.  The detective arched up, brushing his manhood against that Fraser's and the Mountie felt a flush of jealousy.  He sucked in a breath and held it as he watched the two spears dueling, pressing, rubbing…

The door burst open.

The two men jerked, Fraser dropping to cover Ray's body with his own as they stared at the twin barrels of the shotgun.  The shooter stepped further into the apartment.

"Elaine?" both men chorused.

"How could you, Fraser?" the pretty civilian volunteer asked, her voice strained.

"How could I what, Elaine?" Fraser asked innocently.

"How could you be gay?" she demanded, pulling the shotgun tighter to her shoulder.

"He's not gay," Ray said from under the Mountie.  "He just finds me irresistible."

Fraser looked from Ray to Elaine and closed his eyes.  "I don't think that was quite the right thing to say, Ray."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The sound and flash of the resulting blast rocked Fraser awake.  He sat up, shaking his head.

Diefenbaker snarled.

"I apologize.  This whole thing is really affecting me much more than I anticipated."

Dief chuffled, the tip of his tail curling and uncurling.

"I _don't_ find this nearly as humorous as you obviously do," Fraser replied, his voice testy.  "If the situation was reversed, I assure you, I would be much more sympathetic."

Diefenbaker rolled over and went back to sleep.

Fraser lay down again.  "All right, Benton Fraser's subconscious, please listen. No more dreams.  Is that perfectly clear?"  He waited a moment.  "Good."

He closed his eyes.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Fraser blinked, his eyes adjusting quickly to the oddly bright, but still dull light that filled his low-rent apartment.  He turned, sighing deeply.

Yes, there he was again – in bed with Ray.

He froze, his gaze fixed on Ray as the Chicago detective dipped his head until his lips rested lightly on Fraser's manhood.  Then Ray was kissing him, brushing his lips softly across the crown, the shaft.

"Oh my."

The door burst open.

"Not _now_!" Fraser yelled at the interruption.

Jack Huey and Louis Gardino stood in the doorway.

"See!" Gardino belowed.  "I _told_ you they were lovers!"

"We won't be if you don't leave," Fraser stated, but he had no impact on the scene.

Huey nodded.  "Yep, they're lovers, that's for sure."

The two men on the bed looked blank.  "You mean you two aren't?" Ray asked.

"Of course we are!" Louis snapped.  "And we wanted to make it a threesome, then that— that— _Canadian_ , arrived."

"Yeah," Huey agreed.

"I never knew," Ray said, honestly amazed.

"Well, it's too late now," Louis growled, pulling the trigger.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Fraser's eyes blinked open and he sighed, but he didn't move, refusing to bother Diefenbaker again.  A wolf's patience could only be stretched so far.

With another soft sigh, the Mountie rolled over and forced himself back to sleep, wondering what he and Ray might be doing next.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Fraser blinked, his eyes adjusting quickly to the oddly bright, but still dull light that filled his low-rent apartment.  He turned, curious.

Yes, there he was again.

He sucked in a breath, watching himself as he tasted Ray's manhood, the crown and shaft disappearing down his throat.

Ray tossed beneath him, his fingers clawing into the blanket.

The door burst open.

"No, wait!" Fraser called, but it did nothing to stop the double barrel from emerging from the shadows.

The two men on the bed remained oblivious.

The shadows fell away from the door, revealing Fraser Sr.

"Dad?" Benton almost squeaked.

The ghost took another step into the small apartment, his head shaking sadly, his tongue tisking.  He raised the shotgun—

"What in heaven's name am I doing?"

Fraser turned, finding his father standing next to him.  He watched the man's gaze shift from his own doppleganger to the two men on the narrow bed.

"What are _you_ doing?" he thundered.

"It's just a dream, Dad."

The ghost forced himself to look away.  "A dream?  You're sure?"

"How else could I be standing here talking to you?"  Fraser nodded back towards the bed.  "In a moment you're going to shoot Ray and I."

"I am?"

"You are."

"Why?"

"Because we're making love."

"You are?"  His father looked back towards the bed, then took a step closer and bent forward, his eyes narrowing.  "You are."

Fraser took a deep breath, held it a moment, then let it out, saying, "No, Dad, I'm not.  I mean, _I'm_ not, but my dream self is."

Fraser Sr. studied Benton for a long moment.  "Son, maybe you should head north.  Spend some time in the wilderness; get your thoughts sorted out."

"I'm fine, Dad."  Knowing he had no choice but to explain, he told his ghostly father about Garrett, his visions, and the resulting dreams he'd been having.

"It's definitely time to head north, son.  Cold, clean air, that's just what you need.  It'll clear your mind."

"Here it comes," Fraser said, nodding to the dream scene.

"Got any popcorn?" Fraser Sr. asked.

"Dad, it's a dream, not a movie."

"Looks like a movie to me."  He gave his son a wink.  "The kind of movies your mother never let me watch."

The dream Fraser Sr. pulled the trigger.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Fraser opened his eyes only to find his father bending over him.  "Go north, son, before it's too late."  He turned to leave.

"Dad."

Fraser Sr. paused, turning back.

Benton propped himself up on his elbows.  "What would you say if Ray and I— I mean, if it turned out— If we _did_ become—"

"You're not really thinking about _that_ ," his father asked, his eyes narrowing.  "Are you?"

"What's wrong with 'that'?"

Fraser Sr. drew himself up, looking disconcerted.  "Well, it's— It's— It's just not natural."

"There's nothing unnatural about love, Dad."

"Love?" Fraser Sr. challenged.  "That's not love, son, it's… lust."

"You're wrong."

He studied his son and then nodded.  "Maybe I am," he admitted softly.  "Love is life's most precious gift.  I know.  I loved your mother."

"Did you ever love anyone else?"

Fraser Sr. smiled faintly.  "You, and my parents, of course.  And…"

"And?"

"There was this horse once…"

Fraser's eyes widened.

His father shook his head.  "Son, if you really love this detective, well…  Well, I'd prefer it if you didn't, but if you do, then you have to— to— well, you do."

"Thank you," Fraser said, saving his father the embarrassment of saying more.

Fraser Sr. nodded and walked into nothingness.

Benny lay down and closed his eyes again.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Fraser blinked, his eyes adjusting quickly to the oddly bright, but still dull light that filled his low-rent apartment.  He turned, needing to see what he and Ray were doing now.

With a quiet sigh he dropped to the floor, his gaze locked on the two men making love on the narrow cot.  He studied their faces, seeing the pleasure in the beads of sweat on their foreheads, the ecstasy in the tight expressions and half-closed eyes.

They moved as one, their bodies locked in a rhythm older than any other.  They were close, so close, and Fraser felt his own hardness demanding release, but he knew he could do nothing about that now, not while he was watching…

The door burst open.

Fraser's head dropped, his chin nearly bouncing off his chest in frustration.  _Now_ who?

The twin barrels of the shotgun edged into the apartment, lower than usual.  Fraser glanced up, frowning.

"Oh dear," he whispered.

The shooter moved into the room with a low growl.

" _Et tu_ , Diefenbaker?" Fraser asked from where he sat, his gaze imploring the wolf to at least let the two men finish what they'd started.

Dief ignored the dream specter and pulled the trigger.  He whined and wagged his busy tail.  At last, the damned bed was his again.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Fraser's eyes blinked open and he flinched away from the wet tongue licking his face.

The wolf pursued, whining worriedly.

"No, no, it's all right," Fraser assured his companion.  "It was just a dream."

Diefenbaker sat down next to Fraser's prone form, his head cocked to one side, ears forward.

"I'll explain over breakfast," the Mountie promised.

A grumble.

Fraser sat up and rested a reassuring hand on the wolf's shoulders.  "Of course I know you'd never really shoot Ray and I.  As I told you, it was just a dream."

The wolf stood and totted off into the kitchen, a last chuffel letting Fraser know that nothing short of a bowl of Captain Crunch would convince the lupine.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Sitting across from each other at the small table, Diefenbaker dipped his muzzle into his bowl of cereal and lapped slowly at his milk while Fraser related his litany of nightmares.

When the Mountie finished, his untouched cereal turned soggy, Dief licked the last milk drops off his whiskers and grumbled.

"You think so?" Benton asked the wolf.  "Really?"

Diefenbaker chuffed.

"Repression…"  Fraser shook his head.  "I am not repressed."

The wolf snorted.

"And my Oedipal complex is just fine, thank you kindly."  The Mountie paused a moment.  "And I am _not_ going to sit here and discuss the wolf-boy case with you, either."

Diefenbaker sighed.

"You really think it's repression?"  Fraser considered the possibility.  "As much as I hate to admit it, perhaps there might be something to that.  Given the dream images, it is possible – and notice that I say possible, not probable – that I am repressing my more… erotic feelings for Ray."

Dief whined, his nose pointing at the bowl sitting in front of Fraser.

"What?"

The wolf grumbled lowly.

"Oh, my breakfast."  Benny glanced down at the sodden small yellow squares. "Oh dear."  With an indulgent thin smile he pushed the bowl over.

Dief shoved his muzzle into the Captain Crunch and began lapping happily.

"If that is the case, what do I do?"

A long, low grumble.

"I don't know," Fraser countered.  "Telling Ray might make him, well, uncomfortable, and you know what Ray can be like if he's uncomfortable."

A soft growl.

"Well, I don't know if I'd go quite that far, but, yes, he is— What did you call it the other day?  Cranky?  He does get cranky when he feels out of his element."

Dief finished the second helping of cereal, then rested his nose on the lip of the bowl and methodically licked the side while Fraser continued.

"But it really wouldn't be fair if I didn't tell him.  It certainly wouldn't be honest with regards to our friendship if I kept it to myself.  I think honor demands that I tell Ray the truth."

Dief's head came up, ears forward, head cocked to one side.  He whined sharply.

The Mountie blinked, then his eyes narrowed.  "I don't know if this will affect your chocolate donut supply.  I really don't think that's the important issue here—"

Dief barked.

"He's here?"  Fraser checked his watch.  "Oh dear, I'm running late."

Dief leaped down from his chair and headed for the door.

"And don't tell him anything!" Fraser called.  "I'll do that myself!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Three minutes later Ray knocked on the open apartment door and stepped inside.  "Hey, Benny, what's up?"

Fraser slipped the last button on his flannel shirt into place and turned.  "Good morning, Ray."

Vecchio walked further into the room.  "Benny, you gonna tell me what's wrong?"

"No excuse, Ray," Fraser stated.  "I'm running late."

"You sick?"

Fraser paused, doing a mental inventory.  "No, I don't think so, Ray."  He leaned slightly to the side.  "Where's Diefenbaker?"

"Outside, trying to figure a way into the Buick.  I left the donuts on the front seat."

Fraser nodded, calculating the odds on whether or not there would be any left by the time they reached the car.

"You ready?" Ray asked.

"Uh, yes, but before we go I have something I need to tell you."

"Shoot," Ray said, walking over and sitting down on Dief's bunk.

Fraser took up an at-ease stance in front of Ray.  "I'd appreciate it if you would let me finish before you begin yelling, Ray."

The detective looked wounded and shocked.  "Me?  Yell?"

"Yes, Ray."

Vecchio crossed his arms over his chest.  "Okay, I promise.  Spill it."

Fraser drew in a deep breath, paused for a moment, silently asking whatever spirits that might be appropriate to please watch over this explanation, then launched into it, starting with Garrett arriving at the Consulate and ending with a laundry list of his dreams, and Diefenabker's repression theory.

Ray sat quietly for the entire speech, then stood.  Reaching out he slapped Fraser on the arm.  "Okay, c'mon, let's go."

"Go?" Fraser echoed.  "Go where, Ray?"

"Go get the donuts before the wolf figures out a way to pick my locks."

"And then?"

"Then we bring them back up here and we have a _long_ talk."

"Understood."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

They found Diefenbaker sitting on the roof of the car, staring at the metal surface as he sought inspiration for cracking the rolling safe.

"Ha!" Ray barked.  "I didn't think you'd get in this time.  Not with all the windows closed and all the doors locked!"

The wolf gave the detective a slit-eyed glare, but bounded off the car onto the sidewalk, waiting not-so-patiently for his morning treat.

Ray rescued the donuts and together he and Fraser led the way back to the apartment, Dief trailing, grumbling over the fact that Vecchio had forgotten the chocolate-covered Bavarian creams.

Back in the small apartment Ray opened the box as Fraser opened the door.  Removing two chocolate custards, he handed them to the wolf, saying, "Me and the Mountie have to talk.  Go find a few telephone poles to piddle on."

Dief accepted the bribe and grumbled.

"What'd he'd say?" Ray asked.  "I can't understand him when his mouth's full."

"He said it'll cost you more," Fraser translated.

"I ought 'a bust you for extortion," Vecchio growled, removing two more donuts – a maple dip and a cinnamon twist and sitting them on the floor.  "That better buy me at least an hour, dog-face."

Diefenbaker flipped his tail at Ray, but sat down and started in on the treats.

"C'mon," Ray instructed, "shut the door before he asks for a glass of milk."

Fraser stepped aside to allow Ray to enter the apartment, then gave Dief a long, appraising look.  "An hour," he said, then shut the door.  He joined Ray in the kitchen, where the detective was fixing a pot of coffee.  Sitting down at the small kitchen table, he waited for Ray to pour two cups and carry them over before choosing his own donuts.

They ate in silence, but once the donuts and coffee were gone Ray glanced at the clock – he still had forty minutes – then met Fraser's worried gaze across the table and said, "So, you got the hots for me, huh?"

Fraser dipped his head and blushed.  "Yes, Ray, something like that."

"Funny, you never struck me as a…"

"Yes, Ray?"

"Well, you know."

"A homosexual?"

"Naw," Ray said, shaking his head, "a potential lover."

"Oh," Fraser replied, for once at a loss for words.

"So," Ray said, standing.  "Shall we take this to the bed and see what pops up?"

"Ray?"

Vecchio sighed heavily.  "Do you want to see if we can make your dreams come true?" he tried again.

Fraser stood.  "Ray, are you suggesting that we— that we— that we—"

"Make love, Fraser.  I'm suggesting that we try making love."

"But, Ray—"

"Look, do I have't 'a draw you a picture?  I'm interested.  I'm intrigued.  I'm already hard!  Happy?"

Fraser's gaze dropped.  "You're right.  And yes, I think I am."

"See what you're doing to me?  Now, c'mon, we're down to thirty-five minutes."

"After you," Fraser said, gesturing to the narrow bunk.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

It took twelve minutes for the two men to undress themselves – and each other – the ebb and flow of the event framed by embarrassment and curiosity.  The deed accomplished, they stood for another three minutes, simply admiring each other.

Ray made the first move, taking a step closer to Fraser.  "So, tell me some about those dreams," he directed.  "What _exactly_ were we doing?"

"Well, uh," Fraser managed, "we were doing several things."

"Pick one," Ray growled lowly.

"Let's see.  We were kissing.  Yes, I distinctly remember that.  We were kissing, and—"

Ray closed the distance, pulling Fraser into his arms as his lips possessed the Mountie's.  Four minutes later the two men came up for air.

"Oh dear," Fraser panted.

"What?" Ray asked.

"I'm feeling a little… lightheaded."

"Maybe you better sit down," Ray suggested, helping Fraser onto the narrow bunk.

Fraser glanced up at the detective.  "I must say, Ray, that was… topnotch."

"Thanks, Benny," Ray said with a smile.  He glanced at the clock.  "But we've only got fifteen minutes left.  Tell me what else we were doing."

"Well, let's see," Fraser said, lying back on the bed.  "You were straddling me—"

"Like this?" Ray asked, quickly maneuvering to kneel over the Canadian's groin.

"Yes, exactly."

"And then?"

Fraser frowned.

"What?"

"I can't quite remember, maybe it was I who was—"

"Who cares!  What were we _doing_?"

"Well, this," Fraser said, bucking his hips up, brushing himself against Ray.

The detective's eyes rounded.  "Oh?  Oh, yeah, I like that.  Do it again."

Fraser did.

"Mmm," Ray said, letting himself lean forward so he could nip at Fraser's collarbones, neck and chest.

Benny reached up, running his hands along Ray's back, his fingers finally digging into the detective's buttocks, causing the man to buck forward, pressing his hardness into Fraser's abdomen.

"Great dream," Ray panted.

"I thought so," Fraser replied just before Ray's lips brushed his and they were kissing again.

Ray stretched out along Fraser's legs, each man turning slightly so they were pressed tightly together, their mouths still locked.  Fraser rocked forward, thrusting himself against Ray.

"Wow," Vecchio breathed.  "I didn't know Canadians could kiss like that."

"Of course we can, Ray," Fraser replied.

"Yeah, what else is there to do up there during those long, _long_ nights."

The door burst open.

Both men jerked, then scrambled to sit up as the twin barrels of the shotgun poked farther into the apartment.

A scream tore through the small space.  The shotgun darted forward and up, discharging with a blast.  Ray and Fraser rolled off the bunk, each hitting the floor with a dull _thud_.

"Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine.  Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Ray."

"Fraser, is this another one of your dreams?"

"I don't think so, Ray.  But I can't actually be certain."

Together the pair inched around to find the shotgun, which had slid halfway across the floor, and Delbert Rankin, lying flat, Diefenbaker sitting on his back – the bloody back pocket of the man's jeans dangling from the wolf's mouth.

"Good work, Dief," Ray said, scrambling for his clothes and holding them in front of himself so he could slam the door shut on the curious stares of the neighbors.

That done, Ray pulled on his clothes while Fraser called the police, then got dressed himself.  The uniformed officers arrived in less than ten minutes – a Chicago record – taking the whimpering man away to the hospital to get his rump stitched.

Ray and Fraser gave their statements.  Diefenbaker took the opportunity to finish off the remaining donuts.

That done, the officers left and Dief curled up on the bed for his morning nap.

Ray stared down at the wolf.  "I suppose I should be grateful."

"Yes, Ray, you should.  Deifenbaker saved our lives."

"But he's in the way."

"It is his bed, Ray."

"But where are we going to—?"

Fraser nodded towards the floor.

"No, absolutely not.  C'mon, let's go to my place."

"Uh, Ray, do you think that's good idea?"

Vecchio paused a moment, thinking a moment, then shook his head.  "No, I guess not."  His face brightened.  "I know, we can use my uncle Vincent's."

"His house?"

"No, he owns a hotel."

Fraser nodded.  "That does sound like a workable plan."

"That is, _if_ you want to pick up where we left off."

Fraser smiled.  "Of course I do.  That is, if _you_ do."

"I do," Ray replied.

Diefenbaker growled from the bed.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Ray replied.  "We're going already!"

With small smiles the two men left the apartment, the promise of things to come making them hurry for the car.


End file.
